just a chance that maybe we'll find better days
by coffee-stained lips
Summary: She thinks it must have something to do with magic. / Jade&Robbie, similiar in their differences.


**If you've clicked on this fic, I can tell how brave you are. I wanted to sort of show Robbie and Jade's childhoods and how they go through similar experiences that make them more alike than they seem, because I feel it's crucial to their relationship. I think some parts are better than others, but that's how it always is with writing, isn't it? APOLOGIES FOR THE INSANE & UNNECESSARY LENGTH AJSTJHFDF. THAT IS ALL.**

.

He's never been the favorite child – but then, he doesn't give a reason to make his parents proud. He composes songs about the oddest things and sneaks onto his mother's makeup counter to color himself up _just like mommy_. They fake it, mostly, their pride: they clap and smile at his self-proclaimed accomplishments, but he notices no sparkle, no hint of true merriment at his works, inside of their eyes. So he tries harder to be a good son, a fabulous son, but it's impossible, and it's like a bad trainwreck on replay every day as he tries to climb up but always plummets down.

The day before his fifth birthday Megan is born, and the entire family flocks to the hospital room the next day to shower his mother and the baby with pink flowers and baby clothes with words like "Daddy's Little Girl" and "Princess Megan" stitched on the front. They coo over the little girl, and Robbie sits in the chair in the corner, head held up by his hand, as he watches Megan – barely a day old –bombarded with gifts on _his_ birthday.

After the commotion subsides he follows his father out into the hall and they stand before a large glass window into a room filled with babies, a blue and pink ocean. He presses his face up against the glass, eyes scouring for that little girl (_demon_) who's stolen what was never his.

"Look, Rob," his dad says (_robbie, daddy, i'm robbie_), pointing to the far left at a tiny bundle of pink with one peach-colored ball in the air above it. "That's Megan…ain't she cute?" Robbie looks: no, she's not very cute – she looks the same as the rest of the babies, save the thread of green snot trailing out of her nose, which actually makes her the least cute. But when he stares up at his daddy – who's never done much but scowl from under his stubble and smoke Cuban cigars all day – there's something unrecognizable in his eyes.

A sparkle.

(&)

She's never been the favorite child – even though she's the _only_ child.

It gets to the point where she doesn't even _try_ anymore. It had been so that everything she did was to get her mama to look at her, speak to her, say things like _i love you, jade_ or _that song was amazing, jade_ – just _something_. But nowadays she couldn't care less because she knows Mama will never care either, and when Mama doesn't come home to watch _Beauty & the Beast_ with her on time (and when she _does_ get home, brings a strange man with hairy hands with her), Jade isn't even surprised.

She sits on the staircase, arms crossed, as they come in laughing and he's slurring his words as he bangs his head against the door. When Mama turns around and catches her there, Jade can visibly see the shame wash over her previously jubilant green eyes and she seems to forget the hairy-handed man altogether.

"Oh, _baby_." she says, coming over to the stairs and taking Jade's little hands in hers, decorated with pink-painted talons. "I'm so sorry I couldn't see that movie with you…I just lost track of time, and, well, I met _Bradley_…" She sighs at the name like the hairy-handed man is something special, rather than another shiny new toy to be discarded after she's through with him (_even at five jade is no dummy_).

Mama shakes her head, the brief return of infatuation leaving. "Tell you what, babydoll: tomorrow, after Mr. Bradley is gone, I'll go out and get you _anything_ you want. Like a brand-new dolly – "

"I hate dolls." Jade responds with dripping venom. Mama licks her lips.

"Well…what _do_ you want? I swear I'll give it to you."

(_i want you to come home when you say you will, mama, and watch beauty & the beast with me and not bring strange men home, and say you love me, because you do, don't you, mama, don't you love me?_)

"I wanna stuffed bunny." She yanks that off the top of her head.

Happy to have her daughter's cooperation (a rare feat in the West household), Mama smiles tiredly. "Alright, babydoll, then I'll get you just that."

Jade knows she'll forget by the time "Mr. Bradley" leaves and then she'll be off clubbing and bring some guy with an oily face home and the cycle will keep continuing.

Instead of crying when she hears the bedsprings bouncing that night, she just sighs.

.

He writes a song for his music class assignment – he calls it "Broken Glass" and writes it on the cleanest sheet of paper he can find (all the others have doodles Megan has drawn that are tacked to the bedroom walls, and the only reason his parents let him have this one is because of the coffee ring in the middle) in his neatest handwriting with a sharpened purple-colored pencil. When he's done it looks so professional and he's so proud that he takes it to his parents. They frown when they read the lyrics, and don't even let him sing past the first verse.

"Rob, this ain't a very good song." his mommy says, and his daddy scowls.

"But…but I wrote it on real good paper," he whines, quivering with yearning for approval, his hands curling into fists and back to fingers, and back into fists. "And in purple. And I didn't even copy off anyone, I did it all by myself – "

"Maybe that's the problem." He stiffens as he hears Daddy growl this. He stares at him from behind his spectacles, stares at the way his lip is curling and the way his eyes are slits (_insteadofasparklethere'sfire_), until he gets off the couch to retreat to his study where a full bottle of vodka and a pack of Cuban cigars awaits him.

His mommy goes to tell him that maybe he could try writing about something sweeter but Robbie just squeezes shut his eyes and stampedes up to the bedroom they claim is his where he jabs his palm against the broken window, watches the blood fall over the scars he's put there.

He turns the paper in to his teacher Tuesday, but it comes back with an _F_ in red and _please see me after class _right next to it Wednesday. He doesn't go up to the desk after class – in fact, he runs out before everyone else and just keeps going until he reaches home, even though it's only nine o'clock.

(&)

Miss Carlton tells the first-graders they must write a play for class.

Jade constructs a two-act gothic tragedy about three young kids with horrible lives, two of which end up dying bleakly, with a requirement of fifteen minute intermissions between acts.

She watches all the other kids stand up and read their scripts about flower gardens and puppies at a garage sale, and barfs a little in her mouth at the dreadfully saccharine plots. When Miss Carlton calls her up to read hers before the class, she smirks and brings her black binder up to the teacher's desk, setting it down before her. Miss Carlton's bright pink lips fall open.

"_Ma'am_," she says, stressing the word sarcastically, "I don't think I can perform this for the class without the proper preparation – I'll need to borrow the auditorium, and some of the eighth-graders from Mrs. Perry's homeroom." Miss Carlton just continues to gape at the polished pages in italicized Times New Roman font, pushed into slots of the binder, and numbered at the bottom – all forty-nine of them.

And yet she gets a C.

"Babydoll, maybe you should've written something like the other children," Mama says, rubbing Jade's back up and down when she angrily gets off the bus from school. "Like, a play about mice looking for cheese – mice are _cute_, don't you think so?" (_She doesn't._) "Well, c'mon, let's watch this movie. I know you wanted to see that _Mulan_ one, but I've got an even better pick: _Dirty Dancing_. I guarantee you'll love it." (_She doesn't_.)

_Mama's stupid,_ she thinks after the movie's over and her mama is prepping to leave for a heavy date. _So is Miss Carlton. And dancing. And Disney. Everything is stupid._ After Mama gets picked up by Mr. Gabriel, Jade takes her thoroughly organized two-act play she slaved over for four days, places it in the oven, and turns it on high.

She watches the pages coil and the binder melt before her eyes, the fire dancing in her blue, and she couldn't care less if the firemen hadn't been notified and rescued her from the explosion that follows. All she does is go up to her room once Mama gets home and draws Miss Carlton in a flowing, beautiful yellow ballgown being consumed by a fire on her dry-erase board (_she thinks to add herself laughing and pointing, but she runs out of room_).

.

The first present he really ever gets is a puppet.

Mommy gives Daddy money, tells him to go grocery shopping, but Robbie notices him drive past and into the plaza nearby. (He doesn't say anything.) There's a little shop in the corner that reads PAWN above. He sees Daddy smile as he parks the car and gets out.

Robbie follows him dutifully inside. He almost can't breathe: everything is mismatched and thrown onto shelves left and right. There's no two of anything, and it's kind of scary because he _hates_ things that are out-of-order – when things aren't in order they can turn disastrous, and then everything can just _explode_.

(Like him, inside.)

Daddy lights up one of his cigars and the smoke is somewhat comforting, familiar in the uncharted territory. He strays from his father, walking around the shop and searching for something amongst the clutter. On one shelf rests a shoebox, and inside of it are a thousand (okay, maybe only seven) bright yo-yos. They look brand-new, colorful and practically resonating with light. And they're all in an organized order! All in line according to the rainbow: a light red one, then light orange, light yellow, light green, light blue, light purple, and light pink (_so what if pink isn't in the rainbow, it's so pretty_).

"Daddy, Dad – " he starts to squeal, turning around ready to ask with his best Bambi eyes for the yo-yos, but an ugly face looks at him and he jerks backward, startled.

It's only after a few seconds that he realizes it's just a puppet. But, man, it's such a _filthy_ puppet: his hair is crazy, eyes are blank, and clothes have a naked woman on the front, covered only slightly by a leather jacket.

"Ah, it looks j'st like ya', Rob!" Daddy says, shoving the puppet into Robbie's arms. Robbie nearly drops it, petrified by the filth and ugliness (_idon'tlooklikethisdaddyidon't_). He watches as Daddy pulls the crumpled bills Mommy gave him out of his pocket and hands them over to the greasy man behind the counter. Then Robbie's rushed outside and into the car and home, only to have Mommy and Daddy start fighting again.

And he didn't even get to _touch_ the yo-yos.

(&)

The first good present she ever gets is a pair of scissors.

Mr. Kenneth gives them to her Christmas Eve and she loves the shiny gray metal, and the black handles through which she can put her fingers. She tries to contain a smile (no one deserves it) but she's too ecstatic to have it _not_ to.

She runs around and proceeds to snip at anything hanging: the loose purple thread on her shirt, the laces of her sneakers, the curtains, the tax papers (_mama wouldn't have paid them anyway_) sitting on the coffee table, and her mama only gets mad when she raises the scissors to her hair to let the jaws snap it off.

Then everything is cursing and angrily taking away the scissors, and Mr. Kenneth is soon enough tossed outside into the cold. _"Never do that! Your hair is much too precious!"_ Mama throws the scissors in a drawer out of Jade's reach and retreats to the fridge for something to soften the fury. Jade retreats to the bathroom where she gets atop the sink and stares at herself in the mirror. A huge chunk on the left side of her head has vanished, leaving open air and an ugly haircut. She almost feels like crying, but then Mama would say "i told you so," and Jade can't _ever_ have that.

So happily she fixes her hair the best it can go all cut up and she's quite prideful walking into class without anything on her head to the left, because if she makes believe she wants it this way, she will want it eventually.

Jade West doesn't lose.

.

He awakens to the sound of chairs scraping the linoleum of the kitchen in the dead of night. Quickly he puts his glasses on and gets out of bed, creeping toward the doorway. Megan is at hers across the hall, blonde ringlets as curly as ever and green eyes fearful. She looks at him with a plea in those eyes, but Robbie can't think of what to say.

Suddenly there's stomping and Daddy appears at the staircase, his five o'clock shadow dark and smoke billowing out of his mouth from the Cuban cigar in his hand. He rushes past them into his bedroom, and Robbie and Megan watch in horror as he tosses the cigar on the carpet and takes nearly all his clothes out of his closet. He stuffs them in a Macy's bag that he finds, and soon is clomping down the stairs. Nervously the kids go to sit on the top of the steps, hands bone-white as they grip the railing.

There's crying, Robbie hears, from his mother; she's weeping in a desperate way as if trying to say _don't go_. Then there's a door slam, a car revving up, the sound of something heavy falling to the ground. Sobs.

Megan turns to Robbie with dread in her eyes. "What's happening?" she whispers. Robbie's never once had a moment where he's liked Megan – he's had moments, however, where he just feels sorry for her to have been born into such a life and to have a brother who hates her guts, and not know it. He wants to unclench his fists from the railing and shove them under her chin, hiss _it's your fault for being born,_ but then he'd be no better than Daddy – hating the turn of events because of small mistakes. Instead he sighs, takes his sister's hand, and says "Daddy's gone" because he knows in his heart of hearts that's what happened.

(And in his heart of hearts, he knows it's because of himself.)

(&)

She's never heard much about her dad, just that he's selfish and whiny and a bunch of dirty words she likes to keep in the recess of her mind for whenever she's mad at someone. Mama rarely ever speaks about him unless she's had her happy juice (_she never lets jade drink it, and she could use some happy_), so it comes as a shock when she tells Jade they're driving to visit him.

Jade obeys her mama's command to get in shotgun and be as quiet as she can be, if only because she's curious as to what will happen next. Mama drives for a long, _long_ time on endless roads and through neighborhoods Jade didn't even know _existed_, until they eventually pull up to a huge house on the side of the road.

Jade gawks at its vastness: vines crawl up the edge and the windows are shiny. The bricks are perfectly compliant with one another, and the shutters don't have peeling paint, and the driveway is almost a mile long itself, and there's beautiful poinsettias and tulips in pots and on the lawn all around her. She figures she must have died in a car accident on the way to her father's house because obviously this place is heaven (even if she probably should be elsewhere after death).

But then a man comes out of the house and he's no angel because he doesn't have sprawling wings or a harp or a halo, just a brown business suit with a red tie that he keeps tugging on as he goes to meet them at the drive.

Mama fixes him with a cold stare but he keeps his stony-faced expression, and he keeps it on Jade, who stares up equally as indifferent as he, but also equally as cold as Mama. He bends to her level, albeit awkwardly in his fancy suit, and tries to force a smile – it comes out as a grimace.

"Hello, Jade," he says, "You know who I am?" She would like to hazard a guess, but instead just keeps quiet, stares.

"I'm your dad," he says, "and we are going to have a fun day here." _Don't count on it,_ Jade thinks. She only ever has fun with sharp things, dangerous things, and she's sure everything inside _that_ house is monitored by security cameras or guard dogs or something.

He takes her hand, and Mama trails behind haughtily. A tall man stands at the door, holding it open with crisp, white gloves. As they enter, Jade sees the beauty within is even better than outside: there's a spiral staircase leading upstairs, a large television by the fireplace, black-and-purple drapes over the windows (satin, not polyester), gray sofas and loveseats and armchairs. And that's just the living room.

He leads her into the kitchen, which is vast and gleaming white. A long table stretches across the room, and the chairs are lined with green plush and yellow knobs that look like gold. Bowls of fruit, potatoes, vegetables, and a great big turkey at the center prompt her to almost drool, and there's milk poured in a wine glass at the head of the table.

The man – suppose she should call him _dad_ – directs her to her seat where she climbs up, and he and Mama sit adjacent to her as they are served special dishes. Jade frowns at the carrots and broccoli, but the meat is juicy, the apples are fresh, and the milk tastes ten times better out of a glass like that.

After they're done her dad leads her upstairs into a pristine bathroom with Jacuzzi bubblers, and then into a ten-foot long bedroom with curtains hanging over the bed so she can hide herself away if she so wishes.

Eventually he lets her go free, and she runs about the house checking everything, seeing how much riches are around here – she goes outside and climbs in the black weeping willow trees – runs up and down the steps screaming, getting louder when the butler snaps at her for being so unladylike. It's all so perfect and amazing and everybody's letting her do whatever she wants –

Which makes her sort of hate it.

She needs to have a sense that there's something to rebel against – she wants more rules so she can get satisfaction out of breaking them, but it doesn't seem like there _are_ any rules, which makes it perfect, which makes it awful.

So she's somewhat relieved when Mama tells her it's getting late and she should calm down, because that'll surely mean they'll go home, but instead she's led into the living room where she's told to sit on the sofa while Mama and her dad leave the room – they don't go far, Jade notices, so she hops off the couch and presses her ear against the door leading into the study. She can only catch bits and pieces, fragments of sentences, but they're not too hard to understand once she connects them.

"…live with me…good for…"

"She's fine with me…responsible…little girl…"

"My daughter too…you're…reckless…love, Maria."

"…I know…"

She runs into the room the, kicking, screaming, bawling, and she really wants Mama to scoop her up into her arms and run away forever (_that's what mama's good for_), but instead she just stares at Jade with something in her eyes – something like loss, something like hope – but then her dad steps forward and bends to Jade's level again.

"Jade," (_he doesn't have a nickname like mama does_) "I know it's scary, but trust me, you'll learn to love it here." _Learn_ to love. Not _grow_ to love. (It sounds more like a command this way, and she hates being told what to do.) Being that way she doesn't halt in her kicking or her screaming or her bawling, just throwing a tantrum to end all tantrums until Mama hugs her and whispers "_I love you, babydoll_," so softly Dad probably doesn't even hear.

With such a proclamation she's shocked, and can't move, even as Mama leaves through the front door and the butler leads her upstairs to her bedroom. It smells like Febreeze & mints (_she misses the smell of cigarettes & candle wax_).

.

The entire fifth grade has to be in a play for the school. Robbie happily auditions for the lead role as Prince Charming; they cast him as Bush #2.

But that's okay, because they let Rex play one of the dwarves (_grouchy, all too appropriate_) and he gets to hold him from behind the bush which is almost like having a big part, right? Even if he _is_ talking through a puppet.

A handsome boy named Nathan gets the role of Prince Charming instead, and Robbie knows he should've gotten it—he has wispy brown hair and honey-yellow eyes and a pretty white set of teeth, and he truly fits charming. Robbie—well, he fits a bush. Quiet, and ignored.

(Oh, the irony!)

The play is on for only two nights, and both nights Robbie cranes his neck to see into the audience: Mommy is always there with Megan next to her, playing her Gameboy, but he never sees his father. He tries to imagine thick-smelling cigar smoke in the auditorium, but all he comes up with is the glue they used to paste glitter on the backdrop. He doesn't dare ask Mommy if she saw Daddy there—he knows how it would go. First the crying, then the screaming, and then the cutting.

Megan's naïve about the cutting—when Robbie tells her not to go into the bathroom after an episode, and she asks why not, he tells her Mommy spilt a lot of Kool-Aid. And that's become his code word for _blood_; Kool-Aid. It gets to be when he does his report on blood vessels that a teacher marks it all wrong because he mentioned _Kool-Aid_ too much.

So instead he just changes himself and Rex (ignoring Rex's burning comments about his lankiness) and gets into the car, anxiously awaiting compliments. Mommy just nods and smiles when Robbie tells his favorite parts, not at all catching on. Megan says she thought Prince Charming was cute—she doesn't say anything about his bush performance.

After the play ends he tells Mommy he wants to be an actor. She smiles blankly, with an _okay, robbie, you do that_, but without any s p a r k l e. Still he practices, writes more songs and auditions for plays (once he actually gets to play Bush #_1_, which is a _huge_ deal), all of which Daddy doesn't come to, but it's kind of-sort of okay because he needs to be alone up there, onstage. It's when he's the star, and not Megan. It's when he can s p a r k l e and _shine_.

(For the most part.)

(&)

Jade gets the lead female role in her sixth-grade play without even trying, and she just laughs at all the whiny girls blubbering in the bathroom stalls _why her? she's all goth!_ They all have to play trees and bushes instead, which is _ohso_lame, and it just lifts her on a cloud.

The only disadvantage though is the boy who gets lead male role: Greg McIntyre, with his gelled blonde coif and disenchanting gray eyes, who somehow gives the rest of the sixth-grade girls (and quite a few boys) jelly legs. He constantly whistles at her and makes comments on her figure, even as she repeatedly tells him "_f' off_" with a sneer. And the most horrid thing is when she has to kiss him at the end of the show because he always holds her too tight and tries to slide his tongue down her throat, a sick feeling she'd rather not experience.

She puts up with it however (_the show must go on_) for the week they perform, but on the last scene of the last show, when his hand unsubtly grazes her breast, she just wheels back and gives him her best right-hook.

Her teacher gets angry with her, and scolds her afterwards. A few of the audience members say it was a creative twist of plot. Dad says nothing. Overall, it's kind of nice.

(And the best part is McIntyre keeps his shiner for almost a month, and none of the girls like him anymore.)

.

He overhears Nathan and his friends discussing going to Hollywood Arts after eighth grade. Well, technically he's hiding behind the trash can nearby them so he can hear every word but, you know how it goes.

Nathan smilingly tells of all the great, magical things at the school, from its décor to its students to its teachers, every last detail dripping with ethereal magnetism. Robbie shuts his eyes tight and puts his chin between his knees, imagining himself amidst a wave of students. He can see his oddities welcomed and cherished, his mere presence alight with awe and wonderment. It could be like heaven, and he's always wanted to taste it.

When Nathan and his friends walk to Hollywood Arts on a bright spring weekend, Robbie follows them from a few paces behind (_face shrouded by sunglasses and a baseball cap_) with his guitar case and Rex in tow. At first, the school, he thinks, is just another building on the way there – but then the crowd enters through the gateway, and Robbie has to go along.

Inside the walls are full of graffiti and the lockers aren't a dull blue-gray: they're beautified with paint and Sharpies and markers and 3-D objects pasted on carefully. It's all so dizzying that Robbie nearly topples over on the tiled floor before the mob turns a corner, his chance of escape.

They file into an auditorium, and thankfully it's not _too_ colorful that he may throw up, where so many kids already sit. As Nathan and company arrogantly seat themselves up front with haughty faces, Robbie slides to a chair in the back, next to a boy with dreadlocks and pretty chocolate skin, an electric piano in his lap.

A man comes onto the stage, and Robbie nervously edges near the door until he realizes the man isn't some hobo who waddled in – he's a teacher, albeit an insane one. Robbie remembers the kind of teachers he's come across: they wore suits and skirts, blouses and ties. This man is adorned with rags and there are no shoes on his feet. His principal would've cried.

He introduces himself as Sikowitz ("Quite fitting," the dark-skinned pianist murmurs, and Robbie laughs awkwardly even though he doesn't necessarily understand the joke) and welcomes the two o'clock auditions by saying they better be good or they'll promptly be kicked out on their bottoms. He then claims to be kidding, but Robbie sees the glimmer in his eyes that says _oh, no I'm not_.

He watches as kids each in turn walk up onto the stage and sing or dance or act or all of the above, as the rest of them look on in awe but the teachers with calculating eyes, judging and evaluating every squeaky note or misstep or line delivered flatly. Robbie starts to regret his decision, as he sees some of the most talented of kids get shot down and head outside (even Nathan and Co. are rejected, which leads Nathan to cry harder than he did as Romeo in the seventh-grade play). If they can't find anything special inside of such greats as _the_ Nathan of Springwood Elementary, what would they think of curly-haired, four-eyed, puppet-lugging Robbie Shapiro?

"I think I'm gonna puke." he whispers, more to himself than anyone else. But then he feels someone pat his shoulder, and looks over at the boy with his piano, sitting calmly in the midst of the sweaty, fingernail-chewing teenagers suddenly doubting themselves too.

"Hey, man, everybody feels that way now," he says, "Just take a deep breath and tell yourself 'be cool.'" Robbie inadvertently shudders, remembering things his parents had said – the boy's smile fades and he removes his hand, thinking he has caused the trouble.

"Yo, never mind," he says, "Forget what I said – "

"No, no, I'm just…remembering things." Robbie apologizes. The pianist's smile returns and he holds out his hand, skin as silky-smooth there as ever (_his father's hands were blistered_).

"André Harris." he says. Robbie gladly shakes his hand.

"Robbie Shapiro."

The two boys sit in silence as they stare at the lessening crowd in front of them before it's just them, the teachers, and the few who were accepted who are filling out their forms. The psycho Sikowitz man looks over at André coldly, arms crossed, and summons him up to the stage. Robbie mouths "good luck" to him and André does the sign of the cross jokingly. He steps onstage, announces his name and prime reason (aspiring musician/singer/songwriter), and starts to play.

Robbie grins widely at the performance: just like his skin André's voice flows like silk into the air, and he hits each and every key on his piano with precision. The teachers – even the crazy one – grin as well and flicker their gazes from André to each other, sparkling and filled with renewed hope for the younger generation. When André finishes, they happily announce their unanimous decision to make him a student. He holds no shame as he leaps off the stage in a single bound, screeching with delight, and Robbie's ecstatic for him but _god_, can he shut up? He knows well and good Robbie won't experience the same luck when he rolls his dice.

As André is handed a form, Robbie lugs Rex onstage and awkwardly seats himself in the chair. The teachers return to their usual cold glaring, and he gulps as he introduces himself and his reason for being there (musician/singer/actor/ventriloquist, all that stuff). He plays his guitar and sings "Broken Glass," but their faces just scrunch in confusion and they bite their lips. Robbie drops the guitar and starts to do his impressions, his favorite being Booboo the Baby, but they still just look on with expressions of horror, terror. So he collects Rex in his hands, thanks them for their time, but when Rex begins spewing insults about the performance and Robbie argues, suddenly everybody's laughing and clutching their sides. He gasps as Sikowitz stumbles over and spits on him as he says "You're in," and hands Robbie a form. He's too ecstatic as he uses the pen supplied to him to let himself realize it's all because of Rex, not him, that he's gotten in.

(&)

Mama comes the week before eighth grade graduation waving a purple flyer with a big grin that Jade finds herself detesting at once.

She leads her out and sits her in the passenger seat, speaking words of praise about some school for weirdos and burnouts attempting to "make it big." "You can do it, babydoll," she says, "You can make it here. You're golden." Jade doesn't say a word – oh, she knows she'll make it. She has more talent in her pinkie finger than the pink-polished glamour girls in her class have in their whole body. But there's no reason to speak – not to the woman who abandoned her.

They pull up to the school at three, as many students, cheering, crying, whatever, leave. Mama takes her to the front entrance where they go in with many talkative kids, all chitchatting word vomit about how excited they are to make it. _They haven't made it yet,_ Jade thinks with a smirk, for many won't.

They're seated in the auditorium and some man with very odd clothing selections and more hair on the sides of his ears than on his head jumps onstage, welcomes them, thanks them for selecting Hollywood Arts, blah blah blah, yak yak yak (_oh, he's one of_ those)_._

Jade waits and watches as kids get up there and sing, dance, act until their insides are coming up their throats and their legs are wobbling underneath. Only about a third of the people before her make it, and the rest leave sobbing uproariously (_crymeariver_).

Eventually she's called up, and haughtily she steps onstage, arms crossed. She introduces herself, her talents, her coveted professions (whatever, just let me in), and performs. (She sings "Belle" from _Beauty & the Beast_, every last shred of dialogue and lyric with everybody's mouths hanging open. Then she acts out Juliet's death from _Romeo & Juliet_, casually frowning and standing with a bored expression when it's over.)

It's barely a second later when the teachers hand her a form with proud, smiling faces and a pen, saying run-of-the-mill nonsense like "Good job, Miss West" and "Topnotch" and "That's an A right there" – you know, all that teacher bull they feed you.

Mama's grinning idiotically after Jade turns it in. She babbles all the way home about her _pride_ and _amazement_, and says things Jade's never heard Mama say about her before. But all she really cares about is when Mama takes her out and orders a freesh bottle of vodka, claiming it alright because of the "special occasion." She's always liked her mama better when she's tipsy.

.

The first day of school Robbie spots André across the hall, and runs to catch up with him. André gladly invites him to walk with him to their first class of the day, and Robbie's so buzzed from the exhilaration of the first day he practically sprints (or maybe it's from friendship – or just the espresso he had this morning).

In the class everyone's laughing and guffawing, their hair twisted, lips curled up, and legs bouncing up and down. The atmosphere is so bright it's intimidating – from the girl with dyed red hair prattling on about puppies to the gorgeous boy with thick dark hair who resembles Aladdin. He looks down at himself, with his mild polo and glasses and jeans – in his old school he was bizarre, but now among the true bizarre he can't help but feel _average_.

The Sikowitz man bounds in, seats them, and explains the ways of Hollywood Arts. Robbie is captivated by the words – however asinine they may be – spewing from his mouth. They speak of such things he's desired forever: belonging, joy, music, happiness.

They're told to partner up, and he ends up with one frightening-looking girl: she's black from head to toe, only white on her flesh and blue in her eyes. She glares at him as they're paired, and those eyes drift up and down his figure, analyzing him from the outside in. It makes him feel naked.

"Okay, class, time for mirror exercises!" Sikowitz cries as he borrows an unpaired, unknowing young boy with cat litter-colored hair and overlarge spectacles for example. Robbie does uncomplicated movements – waving his hand, touching his face, tapping his foot – and the girl follows them in a bored manner, as if she finds his choices very drab.

At her turn she smirks devilishly as she does pirouettes and leaps, and punches herself in the gut only to see him do so harder than she had and crumple over. He pleads with her to go more slowly but she just hisses "No pain, no gain" and he can't believe that Aladdin character is looking at her with that goofy grin on (_you want her, take her,_ he wants to say).

So it sucks even more when he finds out her locker – adorned with colorful scissors – is right beside his.

Fate never liked him that much anyway though.

(&)

She just wants to get the hell away from that Beck kid.

Sure, he's cool and handsome, and she remembers fondly the time she met him in the record store and smudged her lipstick against his collarbone, but that was in the frantic chaos of pre-high school summer. Now she cannot be frivolous, footloose and fancy-free. He must come to her like a puppy begging for treats – because he knows she has them (_she's just not that easy_).

So when Sikowitz tells them to pair for mirror exercises, Jade sinks her nails into the first wrist she can find; unfortunately, when her eyes trace his face, she realizes it might've been better to be cursed with the punk from Saudi Arabia. This kid has huge black spectacles perched on his nose, with curly dark hair that just stays stagnant, as if he's attempted to tame it with hairspray, and an explosion of red acne on his chin. And he has a puppet.

(Jade does not like puppets.)

Sighing in aggravation, she allows this nerd to do such mind-numbing movements for mirror exercises – really, there's nothing unpredictable or exciting about them. Waving his hand? Tapping his foot? Good Lord, how _did_ he get accepted to this school?

When her turn comes round, of course she doesn't pity him and repeat the same actions: oh, no, she jumps and twirls and pretends to punch herself, because she knows he's stupid enough that he'll actually punch himself hard and get hurt (pain has always been her favorite word, you know); and even as he begs her not to be so difficult, she remains firm in her belief the weak should be punished, and by the end of class he's close to death.

And Aladdin's abandoned that little twerp-like Ariel to chase after her.

Nothing could be more sweet.

.

He falls head over heels for Tori Vega: oh, god, how _can't_ you, she's smart & beautiful & nice & perfection in four syllables. Her skin's Cali gold-brown and eyes are melted chocolate, with her smile still the right shade of pink that he just wants to lay his lips on them, and –

_is it warm in here or what?_

Robbie feels the urge to follow her around like a doting puppy: each day he practices pickup lines in the mirror, cheesy ones too, but every time he faces her he just st-st-stutters and lets Rex do the flirting.

He thinks everybody must be in love with Tori (_it'simpossiblenottobe!_): André's songs consist of love & heartbreak nowadays, and Beck's grip on Jade's shoulders has loosened – even Cat seems peppier when Tori lets her sit next to her during lunch (_well, Cat's always had tendencies_). But him – he's the most noticeable of all, with the way he spouts such nonsense and compliments, but he tries to keep himself reigned in because if Tori hears one of André's songs or Beck lets go of Jade completely, he won't have a chance anymore.

(Not that he ever did.)

(&)

Jade wants to twist Tori Vega into a pretzel, her head over her heels.

Who does the little broad think she is anyway? Miss Malibu Barbie, waltzing in on high heels with wavy hair and an obvious nose job (them boobs look a little Dolly Parton-esque too, Jade thinks). It wouldn't hurt so much if she didn't see Beck looking at her like that: that fresh look of lust she saw on a fourteen-year-old boy not too long ago when his hair barely reached below the ears. Tori's new and glows and she must taste a lot better because that Improv kiss certainly looked like it involved tongue (_she knows how that looks_).

She kisses Beck harder than before, purposefully wears his earring in her eyebrow (_mineminemine_) just to miff Tori, but Tori's unaffected because she'll always be in Beck's rearview mirror if he ever wants to make that U-turn. He always was perfect – and as they say, perfection loves company.

(Misery does too, but those two just aren't compatible.)

.

When Robbie kisses Jade for the first time, it's not on purpose.

He doesn't know why she feels the need to do it, because he doesn't think he's ever given off hormonal vibes toward her (_toritoritori, his heart beats only for tori_), but it's midday; the sun spills through the windows and on the floor like a puddle of butter. He watches Tori and Beck conversing from afar, and feels that pang in his chest – it'd take him a hundred years to get her to laugh like that. Beck makes it happen in thirty seconds.

Then it just gets hazy for him as he shakes his head at himself – they're not even going out (_they're darn near close to it_) – and some black blur steps in front of him, sharp nails dig into his face, and he feels the warm rush of lips. It tastes cold and almost bitter, nothing like the piña colada lip gloss he thought all girls tasted like (well, Trina & Cat at least). However, he thinks as the features come together, what else would Jade West taste like but ice?

"J-Ja-Ja – " He can't keep from st-st-stuttering (_that'srobbieforyou_) as she smirks so evilly, and says "Keep the change" in that smooth manner of hers, all the while making sure Beck can see. Robbie just stares at her retreating back, because for the first time in a long time he went a minute without thinking Tori Vega's name.

(&)

When Jade kisses Robbie for the first time, it's _so_ on purpose.

She's never one to think twice – a thought pops into her head and she just does it. The bile in the back of her throat bubbles as she sees Beck and Tori laughing burns toxically and schemes swirl in her head, ways to get Beck's eyes off that tan-skinned princess and back on herself. And, well, Robbie certainly isn't her _first_ choice, but for now he's her only choice, and being somewhat friends with Beck, he's as good a specimen as any.

She almost feels sorry for the kid as he's innocently going about his ways – almost. Jade's never truly sorry for anything, and grabbing him roughly by the collar to kiss him unexpectedly elicits only a tiny bit of guilt, before she sees Beck through the corner of her eye: he's no longer laughing.

So she kisses Robbie with just a little more force – he tastes like cherry chapstick (she can practically feel her gaydar whirring) – and relishes the colors Beck's face is turning, and how Tori is just standing there dumbly, unsure what the holy hell to do. This is what she's always needed – _power_. And with all three as pawns to her game again, she lets go of Robbie, smirks, says "Keep the change" in the sexiest and most deadpan tone she can manage, then whirls away without so much as a glance back at any of them, even ignoring Robbie's stutter.

She lets herself have a celebratory smoke outside Sikowitz's room.

.

When she sings, it's as if the whole world has stopped. Her melody flows freely in the air, and it makes him tingle all the way down to his toes. It doesn't matter if the song is slow and sad, or upbeat and angry – her voice keeps that magic, and it's like having fairy dust sprinkled all over his body.

(Albeit dark, blood-stained fairy dust – _sheneverbelievedinfairytales_.)

During one play practice, he tiptoes near the open auditorium door and presses his ear against it. She's practicing her solo, and he just stands there, letting the sound of her voice go in his ears and shatter his brain. It doesn't matter, though, because if he ends up brain-dead except for thoughts of Jade forever – well, he could go on living like that.

He goes home that night and tries to write a song, with Megan's pink gel pen and a weatherworn notebook. But the words can't stick to the paper right, and his trash can is flooded with crumpled sheets of mistakes way too soon. He starts using the pen to doodle, and he has a fully-formed dragon with accents on the scales and the fire. And yet, there's no song to show for anything. (He's no André Harris.)

Robbie reaches over to turn the radio on and the music comes so easily for these people (whose voices aren't even that good), and yet for him he cannot squeeze the words his heart is pumping through the pen. He can't write love songs, only songs about broken glass and strangers on buses because those are scary things, and he knows fear so much better than love.

(But then, so does Jade.)

She compliments him on "Broken Glass" in passing after Tori sends them all home, and his heart starts to flutter with glee. Then he sees Beck's arm around Jade's waist, and his lips to her ear, even though he was smiling at Tori too much that night.

Still, Jade liked his song.

(_it takes a broken boy to love a broken girl._)

(&)

She knows she's good at singing. _Really_ good.

And yet it's that tan-skinned Tori Vega who gets all the limelight because of her beauty, but she doesn't even have the _talent_ – she's sharp and poppy and can't act to save her life. But, you know, she's just _so_ pretty. So fricking pretty.

And Beck thinks she's _so_ great too, and all he says to Jade is "Cool it, babe, you're still good," but he can never take his eyes off Vega during the plays when he's in the audience, can he?

She watches with contempt at the two of them, singing and reading their lines, and Beck keeps complimenting her like she's God's gift to the world, and it makes Jade sick because all he would ever tell her was his car was parked out back, if she wanted to drop by (_which she always did_).

"Jade," Robbie comes up behind her with his fists jammed in his pockets and Rex slung over his shoulder after play practice is over. She doesn't know why he's there; he should've been home two hours ago. "Your solo…I overheard…it was magical." And that word rings in her ears – _magical, magical, magical_ – because she's been told she's _good_ and _great_, and _awesome_ and _hot_. But _magical_ makes her feel like she's actually doing something right.

She doesn't thank him, just nods knowingly and meets up with Beck to go home, but that word continues to sound in her brain, Robbie's slight stammer coming out to say it – magical. And she thinks it all the way into Beck's RV, and when he's kissing her and they're lying together she thinks it, and she's not sure whether she should stay flattered, or deeply perturbed.

.

"What's that from?"

Robbie looks up from his macaroni and cheese to look at Jade, whose eyes are trained on the side of his face. Subconsciously his fingers reach up to touch the scar on his left temple, and he suddenly can't swallow the noodles in his mouth.

"Oh, just…just a stupid scar." he says, looking away from her and shoving food into his mouth so he doesn't have to talk, but Jade doesn't give up easily – he's learned that the hard way.

"Shapiro…" She drags out his name, her eyebrow lifting above her other. Her piercing glints in the sun as she does this, and Robbie reluctantly tries swallowing his food, sighs, and looks her way.

"My dad…" he starts. She stares. There's no expression. "He only ever did it once, I swear. I just, I got him kinda angry, because I was trying to sing this song from _Annie_ that I learned at school, and he told me to shut up and…his ring cut into my head. But it's not important, it only happened that one time."

Jade just keeps staring at him without any expression at all, and it gets him sick because he doesn't understand how she could blow that comment off – not like he expected her to pity him at all, but maybe something akin to shock.

He sees her fingers go to her lacy black sleeve, but instead of pulling it up, she says "One time's enough," and spills her Coke on his lunch.

(&)

She feels the old scars burning on her wrist when he tells her. It's not as if Mama or Dad ever hit her, they were always as good as they could be to her, but she can't help it when she sees the tiny white line there on Robbie's head.

It hurt the first time – well, it hurt all times, but she learned to quell the pain. She remembers how there was so much blood, and how Beck reacted when he saw the crisscrosses along her arm. "What the hell, Jade?" he'd say. "Stop hurting yourself!" And she did, because he told her to.

(But he never asked why, and she couldn't tell him it was because of inadequate parents and a golden-skinned angel who he couldn't keep his eyes off of.)

She almost shows Robbie the scars, but thinks better of it – after all, he's only Robbie, and it wouldn't do any good to include somebody else in her secret. So she pulls her sleeve down just a little bit more and spills her Coke on him.

(He doesn't look that hungry anyway.)

.

Jade offers him a ride home the following Friday, and he accepts because he knows his mother won't be there in time to pick him up because of a parent-teacher conference with Megan's sixth-grade teacher (_probably about how fricking wonderful she is_, he thinks bitterly).

Robbie doesn't really expect them to make out in the backseat. It's funny how things work out.

He's not quite sure why, or how, this happens, but he figures it'd be better not to ask, so he just lets Jade unbuckle him and mash her lips against his. She tastes as cold as ever, but he realizes that just maybe he likes the frigidness. His hands awkwardly find her hips and he shuts his brown eyes tight so he doesn't have to look at her (_hewantstososomuch_).

And he's never done anything like this before – he's been kissed four times in his life, and none of them meant anything – but Jade's such an expert that there's no confusion as his polo gets unbuttoned and his curls get tangled together. He shakily keeps her back, though, far enough away no mistakes can be made (_he wants to make them, just to do it_).

After it's done she scoots back to the front seat, her hair out of place and her lipstick slightly smeared, but overall she's lost not a piece of her cool demeanor – whereas Robbie is in his deer-in-headlights mode, staring straight out the window at the swinging palm trees.

"Wha…" he mutters, his hands shaking badly. He sits on them, but it doesn't help. "Why…what…Jade, how – "

He stops as soon as she looks his way, calculating, cold, cool. He can't read what's in her face, if there's any regret or shock. She's got nothing showing. He figures nothing's there.

"What's your address?" is what she says. So he tells her.

(&)

_Magical…_that's the word that is running through her mind as she yanks Robbie out of his seat and far back into the car.

She's always been one to act on impulse, and this time's no different when she sees a scrawny black-haired boy sitting alone on a metal bench of Hollywood Arts' campus. At first she doesn't really care to focus on him, but when his words return to her, and she remembers lunch, she hits her foot hard on the pedal and invites him in.

It's probably not fair of her to do this to him, because she knows just how it'll end. But life's a bitch, and Robbie should learn that, so she throws all premonitions of guilt out the window and goes for it. Besides, he seems to enjoy it, as hesitant as he is to let her do anything more than kiss.

When it's over, and he tries to ask her why, she just gives him her best look because she can't figure out why either – it's not because she loves him or likes him. She doesn't want to tell him she does, but doesn't want to tell him she doesn't because while she dislikes him, she can't help but also pity him.

(She thinks it must have something to do with magic.)

.

That's not the last time it happens. Because obviously, these things never stop at "once."

Sometimes it'll be like the first time, others they'll pretty much just sit with each other, doing nothing. He sits on his back porch once with her, when his mom and sister are off for her ballet recital or something (Jade instantly dislikes her for that), and they lean on each other as they stare at the backwoods of his house. The leaves on the trees are starting to turn green again, and mosquitoes are electrocuted by the bug zapper above their heads.

Robbie moves his hand off his knee and on hers. She seems to cringe, but he doesn't move away. Angling his head near hers, he asks "Do you like me?" She doesn't answer him at first, just stares at the corpses of the mosquitoes lying on the porch steps.

"No." she says. He holds back that half-choke, half-sigh.

"Do you hate me?"

"No." This answer comes quicker.

Robbie wants to tell her he loves her so much it makes him physically ill, and that he's never hated her, even before he loved her, but instead he just nods and looks back at the trees.

(&)

She can't take her eyes off the corpses. She ought to be disturbed, but she's so interested, fascinated even, by the way their legs curl. She's so focused she doesn't notice when Robbie puts his hand over hers (then again, she's trying hard not to).

She doesn't want to answer his question when he asks, because she doesn't know what to say. So she just gives him no, because she doesn't like him and no is her favorite word. And with the next question, she just responds the same because no is her favorite word (_andshecan'thelpbutnothaterobbieshh!_).

And for perhaps the first time ever in her whole life, Jade feels guilty.

It doesn't feel nice.

.

Robbie Shapiro tells Jade West "I love you" the last day of senior year, amidst a crowd of celebrating graduates.

She doesn't hear him, and runs over to Beck.

(&)

Jade West loves Robbie Shapiro too.

But she's not allowed to.

.

He tries to keep in contact with her over the summer, sends her texts and e-mails and phone calls, but they're never answered. He checks the Slap, and he can tell she hasn't dropped off the face of the Earth because Beck and Cat keep uploading pictures with her in them (as sour and beautiful as he remembers), but his comments go unnoticed.

He tries and tries again, but by August nothing has worked so he gives up and prepares for college in the fall. He attends Duke University, because he's pretty smart, even if he can't write music or sing it well. He gets a bit green though when he hears all his friends' plans for fine arts colleges and such, but he thinks he'd make a better accountant than Broadway star anyway.

He keeps Rex, though, and does ventriloquist acts on weekends for tips. The smoke is heavy and the smell of alcohol thick when it's at bars, and the pay's not great because the patrons would rather see scantily clad women doing X-rated material up on stage anyway. But then, it helps to pay tuition and bills.

(And it helps to forget.)

(&)

She has to run away from the guilt that summer. So she hangs out with Beck and with Cat and they don't give her the same welcome feeling anymore, but she knows they're safe waters to tread in. It's not like she forgets Robbie, it's just that she wants to. She reads the comments left on her Slap page, the missed calls, e-mails flooding her inbox, texts piling up from him…

(_Magical_.)

She attends NYU that autumn, and the people are as weird as high school, so she blends right in. She meets new people she hates least of them all, but they're not really her _friends_, and she doesn't try to help them be. She just goes through the motions, day by day, and each day she is trying to forget.

She realizes just how hard that is.

.

Outside it's raining, and the sky has turned that distasteful gray. He holds a newspaper over his head to keep from getting wet, but all it does is melt the black ink into his hair (_ah, it matches anyway_). People stare at him from inside the coffee shop as he trails in, soggy and gaunt, but soon enough return to their drinks and pastries like he's not even there.

Throwing the no-good newspaper in the trash, he goes up to the counter and orders his usual black coffee and croissant, and the woman gives them to him with that bored look on her face. Trying not to blush in embarrassment, Robbie thanks her, pays her, and scurries away.

He walks around a little, trying to find a spot to sit, when he sees someone waving her hand in the air. It takes a moment for him to realize she's waving him over (he's really never had a woman invite him over, ever). So he gladly slides in across from her to drink and eat, just like usual –

He notices the piercing in her eyebrow. He stops.

Neither of them say anything, and he can't see her eyes behind those huge sunglasses, but she can see his and he's sure they're filled with terror and shock. Her black-painted nails drum on the tabletop, and her other hand grips the frappuccino tightly. After awhile, she says "Long time no see."

And it has been, and surprisingly he soon finds his tongue and starts babbling about anything and everything. He gets to telling her his whole life story, pretty much, excluding the moments when her hand was in his, her lips to his own. She just nods, listens, and sips her coffee as he rambles, and he's not sure if she's even paying attention until he's done and she replies,

"Isn't that nice." she says, and almost grins – it's more like a smirk. He waits for her to maybe say something back, how she's been and her life (_what her dad did to her, her mom, why everything has to be so messed up_), but she doesn't. Swallowing hard, he locks his gaze with her and hopes to whatever god may be listening he won't stumble.

"I still love you," he says. And nothing.

"Shapiro, forget it ever happened." she says, and the wind goes out of his stomach. "It's over, it's done, so you better get on with your life." With that she collects her things and leaves. Robbie stays sitting at the table.

He doesn't finish his croissant.

(&)

Jade is a little bit like Robbie, she notices.

(But she's still not allowed to love him.)


End file.
